


Hey Baby (i think i wanna marry you)

by element78



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Valentine's Crime, brief Jason/Dick/OFC but nothing serious, criminals au, jaydick-flashfic: amnesty, kind of a heist fic, they're not bad guys but they're definitely not good either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/element78/pseuds/element78
Summary: Jason and Dick, black sheep of the family, return to Gotham to get something for the most important mission of their lives.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 7
Kudos: 202
Collections: Jaydick Flash Fanwork Challenge





	Hey Baby (i think i wanna marry you)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Friday! Here's some porn.
> 
> Somehow inspired by that one Bruno Mars song that just lives in my head for months every time I hear it. Yeah, I don't know how it got to here from there either.

The Best Western just outside of Allentown, Pennsylvania doesn’t have a honeymoon suite, the girl behind the counter informs Dick. She’s trying not to stare at the way Jason is draped over Dick’s back, hands snaking under the waistband of his jeans and fingers teasing along Dick’s hipbones and upper thighs, so Dick fishes some crisp new hundreds out from a plastic bag and rents out a room and gives her a thousand dollar tip, and she gives him the room key without calling management or asking them to leave.

“It’s not drug money, promise,” Dick says with a wink when she handles the bills by their edges, as if trying not to get her fingerprints on them, and Jason inhales sharply against his neck and bites hard enough to bruise.

“Behave,” he breathes into Dick’s ear, and Dick shudders and grins at the girl and pulls them away from the front desk.

One step into the elevator, and Jason slams a hand on the button panel and scoops Dick up as the door closes, pinning him against the wall and kissing him deep enough to steal the breath from his lungs. Dick whines against him and hooks his legs around Jason’s waist and fists both hands in Jason’s hair and Jason bites his lip hard.

“You always get like this,” he says casually, face still close enough to smear the blood from Dick’s split lip across both their mouths. One hand hooks under Dick’s ass, holding him steady, and the other slides over Dick’s hip and works open his fly. Dick grunts and squirms as best he can, pinned as he is, when Jason draws his- heh- _dick_ out and gives it a single stroke. His expression is bored but his eyes are electric green, so hungry. “Every time we get close to Gotham.”

He twists his wrist and Dick gasps and writhes again. There’s a security camera in the corner of the elevator car, Dick can see it blinking at them when he tosses his head back- but it’s two in the morning, and Dick has a WalMart bag stuffed full of cash on his wrist, and Jason’s moved back enough that the camera can also see the red emblem on his chest, and no one’s going to fuck with them now.

“Trying to outdo Isley and Quinn in the Grossest PDA Category?” Jason asks, as though he wasn’t the one all over Dick since the moment they got out of the car.

“Just love being here with you, sugarplum,” Dick says, letting the pet name roll off his tongue just so he can see Jason’s eyes flash and feel his grip tighten. “Happy to be going home again.”

Jason kisses him for that, sucking gently on the split lip and humming thoughtfully as Dick arches up against him. He lets go of Dick’s cock and reaches behind him and presses blindly at the buttons, managing to get their floor through sheer luck.

They make it into the room without incident, although Dick’s fast approaching fully naked by the time he fumbles the key card into the scanner. He gets the door open and stumbles back into the room and Jason picks him up again, carelessly strong, and tosses him backwards onto the bed. The money bag twists and rips open with the rough handling and Dick laughs as the bills scatter across the bedspread.

“Gorgeous,” Jason says, kneeling on the bed over Dick. He picks up a stray fifty and trails it over Dick’s lips, his nipples, feather-light along his cock. Another kiss, and Jason smiles down at him, a rare moment of shyness that makes him actually look his age. “You looking forward to this weekend?”

Dick wraps his arms around Jason’s neck, pulling him down over him, the denim of his jeans dragging roughly over Dick’s erection. “Fuck me first and we’ll see about this weekend,” he says into Jason’s ear, then nips hard at his earlobe, and moans when Jason pushes him back down and holds him there.

“Oh, babe,” Jason says, grinning dark and sharp-edged like a knife, and proceeds to do as ordered.

* * *

Breakfast the next day is at one in the afternoon, and at IHOP- it’s Dick’s turn to choose and all the money in the world can’t buy class. Jason shamelessly steals the hash browns off Dick’s plate and complains about the texture of the crepe even as he inhales it, and Dick picks at his pancakes and texts Tim. There is absolutely no making out in the restaurant, because Jason Peter Todd has the mind of a criminal genius and the soul of a public health inspector.

“Any word yet?” Jason asks in one particularly long pause between texts. It had taken swallowing a great deal of pride, and then a little bit more, for Dick to call in this favor, but he and Jason simply didn’t have the resources to build up identities that would pass the level of scrutiny they were going to bring on themselves. Barbara Gordon, however, did. Dick doesn’t want to think what sort of favors she’ll be calling them in for, if she even agrees to this.

“Nope,” Dick says, and stabs at Jason’s hand with his fork when it strays close to his bacon.

The waitress, tired and jaded and nothing new under the sun, has just brought them their second pot of coffee when Dick’s phone jangles again. He lets Jason pour him his coffee and mix in the cream and sugar as he checks.

“We’re good,” he reports with a relieved sigh.

“Because I need permission to go back to my own city now,” Jason says sourly, and stabs his fork at his stolen hash browns hard enough to bend the tines a little on the plate.

“I’ll kiss it later and make it better,” Dick promises, trying to signal their waitress so they could throw a couple of hundred dollars of what is definitely not drug money at her and leave this dreary little city already. He’ll wait until they’re out in the parking lot, he decides- pin Jason up against the car, sink down to his knees, let Jason fuck his mouth until some of the violence simmering under his skin is sated. It’s bitterly cold out, early February in the Appalachians, but he’ll make it worth it.

The waitress comes around with the bill eventually- the only time there’s good service at IHOP is on Sunday mornings, with the families all dolled up in their church clothes- and Dick waits until the plates are cleared out and Jason is making to pull his jacket back on before he finally leans across the table and pulls Jason into an unhurried kiss.

“Come on,” he says, petting Jason’s hair to soothe him Sex in an elevator with a security camera on them is hot, but a Disney kiss in public turns him lobster red. “I have something to show you. Outside.”

They get the cops called on them, but not before Dick settles Jason’s anxiety and leaves him with pleasure-loosened limbs and a sloppy smile, and that makes it worth it.

* * *

Gotham is grey- grey old snow, grey cloudy sky, grey smoggy air, grey steel and glass buildings reflecting the dreariness back upon the city. It smells like exhaust and dead fish and the air is too choked with pollution for the cold to bite into skin and lungs the way it wants to, and the people are hurrying along with their heads down. Even the violent splashes of garish red in storefront windows can’t salvage the monotony. Dick hates it, and he hates that it feels so good to be home again.

They call three different hotels to book rooms under three different aliases, pay cash for two more rooms at different low-cost motels, and finally settle down in the condo Jason bought two years ago under the deepest cover identity he has. They kick off slushy boots and drop bags into the entryway closet- the plastic cash bag has upgraded to a Whole Foods canvas tote- and then Dick loiters aimlessly in the entryway while Jason heads into the condo to check on their grocery situation. They won’t be here long, but leaving the condo in the meantime is a risk.

There’s a phone on the entryway table, and Dick stares at it for far longer than he should. It feels wrong being here without- he should-

“He won’t thank you for it,” Jason says, not unkindly, and Dick closes his eyes and moves his hand away from the phone.

The thing is, he’s not wrong. Bruce has been dialing down on the _by any means necessary_ part of controlling the crime in the city, getting more and more uneasy with his own methods as the years went by and his collection of kids grew. Dick vividly remembers walking in on Bruce feeding the branding irons into the incinerator, the bat’s symbol collapsing in on itself like hot taffy as the metal melted, mere hours after the paperwork for Tim’s adoption went through.

There’s a human trafficker floating in Lake Erie, a bullet hole through his skull that had been a mercy by the time it came, his cash stuffed into a Whole Foods bag in the closet. Dick had learned brutality long before Bruce started going soft on them.

Jason picks up the phone, dial tone sitting in the air between them. He looks at Dick, patient, expectant. He’s still waiting, always waiting, for Dick to decide he’s not good enough, to give up their life and go back to Bruce, mold himself into the perfect son and step right into his new role.

“Pickles and mustard on the pizza,” Dick requests. The only way to prove to Jason that that wasn’t going to happen was to simply not let it happen. He appreciates what Bruce had done for him, loves him almost like another father, but there’s really no contest here.

“You know you would be executed without trial in New York City for that,” Jason says, but he’s relaxing, smirking, dialling the pizza place.

“And the cinnamon dessert pizza, if they have it.”

“Go try your suit on,” Jason orders, like _Dick_ is the one who’s grown twenty inches since his last proper fitting. “Tie too, I know you know how to tie one.”

Dick laughs, and steals a kiss while the pizza place worker answers the phone and rolls off their schpiel, and goes to try on his monkey suit.

* * *

He wakes up to the unearthly glow of a cell phone screen in the dark, and groans and presses his face into Jason’s hip. There’s faint light clawing at the edges of the heavy curtains, too pale and watery to be anything but dawnlight, which means it is far too early to be awake.

“Just clarifying some last-minute details,” Jason says, tapping away at the phone. A minute, a ding, another round of tapping, and he finally turns it off and sets it aside. He slides down the bed so he’s lying down properly and gathers Dick up in his arms, pulling him close and kissing him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Jason says into their next kiss.

“What’d you get me?” Dick asks, and Jason breathes out a near-silent laugh.

“Nothing,” he says. “I’ll have something for you later, if you’re willing to wait.”

Dick hums and puts his head down on Jason’s shoulder. He wants to finish what Jason is starting, but he also wants more sleep, and the latter is winning out.

Jason is tracing a hand up and down his back, counting the knobs of his spine. He takes a breath as if to say something, pauses, breathes out again. The arm around Dick pulls tighter, and he can feel Jason tensing under him, preparing.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.

_Stop doubting me_ , Dick wants to snap- but that won’t fix anything. He settles in closer instead, breathing in Jason’s scent and smiling against his skin.

“Can’t get rid of me now, Todd,” he murmurs, and Jason squeezes him tight before loosing his grasp.

“Go back to sleep or you’ll be grumpy all night,” he says, and Dick bites his shoulder in retaliation, then snuggles down against his chest, and falls back asleep to the steady heartbeat under his ear.

* * *

Althea White’s Valentine party is a legend among the Gotham elite- all glittering diamonds and lipstick kisses smeared onto cheeks and collars, oysters and strawberries and pink champagne and a chocolate fountain. The guests are given domino masks, edged with delicately lace and studded with seed pearls, and a handful of long-stemmed red roses at the door, and pretend not to know each other as they sweep around the ballroom, sharing sultry kisses and trading roses as promises. Miss White’s staff has sectioned off the rooms just outside the ballroom with curtains, and beyond the red crushed velvet her guests thrill themselves by mixing ecstasy with unprotected sex with a stranger or two.

To Dick, who doesn’t need to play pretend for some excitement in his life, it’s unspeakably boring, and also kind of unhygienic.

He’s loitering near the wall as unobtrusively as he can in order to keep an eye on things when Miss White herself sweeps over. She’s approaching middle age with reluctant grace- her hair is undyed silver and delicately coiffed, her dress is conservatively high-necked and dips only halfway down her back. Her only allowance to the yearning for better days, aside from her taste in men, is a necklace of platinum and diamonds that probably weighs five pounds and culminates in a stone almost as big as Dick’s thumbnail.

“Good evening, Mister Malone,” she says.

“Miss White,” he greets in turn, upper crust Gotham accent in place. No mask for her- hosting this party makes her feel powerful and important, and hiding behind an alias defeats the purpose. No mask for him either, but in his case, he’s more likely to be recognized with one than without. At least Jason hides his pretty face behind a full mask, and can put on a black domino here without people looking at him and wondering.

“You seem lonely.” Miss White is dedicated to her role, but she’s already wandering with her eyes- Dick, at twenty-six, is almost too old for her.

Dick smiles, sweet, charming. “I thought that was the point. Make some new… friends tonight.”

Miss White looks at him for the first time, looks him up and down twice, the second time slowly and appreciatively. He’s only almost too old for her, and even then he’s had to chase off several other admirers and has four roses in hand that he hadn’t entered with. She moves closer, settles in directly beside him and leaning in close to murmur low over her champagne glass, playing at their words being dangerous things.

“Is there someone in particular you’ve had your eye on?” she asks, and Dick looks away, his gaze finding its target with careless ease. He’s been watching that familiar figure sweep around the ballroom all night, his attention drawn back to it like filings to a magnet. Miss White follows his gaze, and smiles. “Ah.”

Jason is in a black three-piece suit, black on black on black, and it is _devastating_. He looks tall and dangerous and so stupidly sexy, narrow waist emphasized by the waistcoat, shoulders broad in his jacket, hair slicked back except that one boyish curl that kept falling into his eyes. The only color on him is royal purple playing peek-a-boo, lining the inside of his jacket, on his socks. He’s across the ballroom now with a woman old enough to be his mother on his arm, leaned close so he can speak words into her ear that is bringing a red flush to her cheeks.

As if sensing that he has Dick’s attention, Jason looks up, meeting his gaze through the mask. Dick bites at his lower lip, pulls at it with his teeth to feel the old sting of the half-healed split, and looks away.

“We were invited as guests by one of your regulars and ended up arriving in the same limo,” Dick says, in case she already knew about that. “I should have said something then, but,” and he gestures ruefully to indicate Jason, the gorgeous picture he makes. If they truly had not arrived together, and didn’t know each other, would Dick have the nerve to approach him? Who could say.

“Your mutual friend did not introduce you?” Miss White asks.

“Haven’t seen her yet, she sent the limo away when we arrived to pick her up,” Dick says, tearing his gaze away from his lover and looking around the ballroom as if searching for someone. The first part of that sentence was true, at least.

Miss White’s party was a success in large part because of her discretion, so she did not ask after the woman’s name. She leans even closer to Dick, and he can smell her perfume, something spicy and subtle. “I can soften him up for you, if you would like,” she offers.

“Kind of defeats the purpose,” Dick says, and Miss White smiles and sips at her champagne. A moment later she’s reaching over and tucking a rose stem into his breast pocket, the white rose half-bloomed and starburst bright against his storm grey jacket.

“Give me twenty minutes, then make your way over to us,” she orders as she’s smoothing his lapel. Then she whisks away, trading her near-empty champagne glass for two full ones, and makes a beeline for Jason.

Dick watches her leave, and as he does, his eye snags on something peculiar- someone else, one of the very few, not wearing a mask on her face. A woman, short-cropped dark hair, wine-red dress plummeting to the small of her back. The mask is pushed up off her face, and looks custom made, two triangles rising up from the corners. Perched on her head as it is, it gives the impression of cat ears.

Jason catches his eye once more, his former companion chased off as Miss White descends, and Dick gives him a shrug and a go-ahead nod. He tosses back the rest of his champagne in a single swallow, abandons the glass on the nearest tray, and forges into the crowd.

Miss White’s twenty minutes come and go, and she is still charming her most handsome guest, plying him with champagne and flattery. He is a stubborn catch, though, and pulls back ever so slightly whenever she tries to reel him in. Dick takes advantage of the time Jason is buying him to make his route through the ballroom, trying to sync up his orbit with the woman in red’s. He times it right, and lands at her side right as she’s selecting a chocolate covered strawberry.

“Catwoman,” he says, voice pitched low, and she gives a soft, polite laugh.

“Robin,” she counters, even though it has been years, and takes a bite of her chosen berry. Her lipstick is so deep a red it’s practically purple, and she’s wearing garnet earrings and a garnet bracelet and is going daringly without a necklace, and if she doesn’t already have someone else’s watch tucked into her clutch then Dick doesn’t know her at all. She traces one gloved finger against the delicate petal of the white rose bud in his pocket. “Making new friends like always, I see.”

There is only one person here giving out white roses, and Dick watches her find Miss White with her eyes, her lips quirking up at the corners. She’s here to work too.

“You have an exit strategy?” he asks, and Selina tuts at him.

“I always do,” she says, and picks up another strawberry. There are two men at the other end of the table watching her every move, and she bites into the strawberry with a pornographic moan and flutter of her eyelashes. Dick, who had spent his childhood watching her strange courtship with Bruce, feels nothing but vaguely uncomfortable.

He checks on Jason again, and sees a shock of white against his black suit. A white rose, twin to the one in Dick’s pocket, Miss White on his arm and smiling like the cat who got the cream.

“Good luck, tiger,” Catwoman purrs before she heads off at an angle from her admirers.

Jason catches his eye and smiles a warm, slow smile that wraps around Dick’s heart and twists painfully tight, and Dick is helpless, drawn straight to him. He follows when Jason leads Miss White out of the ballroom, and doesn’t look back once.

* * *

They come to one of the rooms sectioned off by the curtains, a sitting room with a fainting couch in place of pride in the middle of the room. Jason holds the curtain aside like a proper gentleman, and eyes Dick appreciatively when he ducks past to come into the room. He is nobody to Jason right now, just an attractive man he’s seen a few times tonight, and the dispassionate assessment drags shivers down Dick’s spine.

Miss White stands over by the head of the couch, already reaching back to undo the clasp of that monstrous necklace. “Mister Malone, Mister Richards,” she says, and Dick shoots Jason a sharp glance. They hadn’t discussed aliases.

“We’ve met,” Jason says with a smirk towards Dick before he moves over to Miss White and gestures towards the necklace. “May I?”

She agrees, and he unclasps the necklace and places it carefully on the table by the foot of the couch. Then he sits down and leans back, legs spread wide enough for a body between them, arm draped across the couch’s back. “Malone, was it?” he asks, and tips his head back, grin sharp as a bared knife between them, eyes still hidden behind the mask.

He has such a presence, unavoidable and inescapable, and even if Dick weren’t playing this part he wouldn’t be able to look away. Jason can command a room, become its center, with a shift of his shoulders and a flick of his lips. It feels dangerous to approach him but Dick cannot turn away, not with Jason watching him, lazy and expectant.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Miss White says when Dick hesitates and glances at her, one last gasp of freedom before he is pulled into Jason’s web. She’s watching them avidly. Dick looks back at Jason, who raises his eyebrows above his mask- challenging him, daring him.

It is hard, so very hard, to approach Jason like this really is their first time. Like Dick doesn’t know that Jason will gasp and arch against him if Dick nips at the soft skin just behind his ear, like Jason’s teeth don’t perfectly match the faded bruises on Dick’s neck. Like Jason hadn’t crossed his legs in the limo to tease Dick with that purple ankle the whole way here. He balances himself with whisper-light fingers on Jason’s shoulder and slides a knee onto the couch between Jason’s thighs and leans over him and presses their lips together in a closed-mouth, heartbreakingly chaste kiss.

Jason’s hands come up to slide up Dick’s sides and onto his back, pull him down so he drops into Jason’s lap with a _whuff_ of breath. One hand skates up into Dick’s hair before redirecting to his jaw- Dick likes having his hair pulled, but Mister Richards cannot possibly know that, and it would be rude to presume- and putting pressure against his chin. The next kiss is open-mouthed and filthy, Jason’s tongue in Dick’s mouth, Jason’s hand on Dick’s ass. He holds Dick still and pushes up off the back of the couch, pressing into him, pressing them together so there is no air between them.

Dick fights a hand free from where it was trapped between them and pushes Jason’s jacket back, trailing his fingers on that soft satiny shine of purple that has been teasing him for hours. The waistcoat is next, much as Dick admires what it does to highlight Jason’s figure- Dick arches his own back to create a gasp of space between them and gropes blindly for the buttons.

A hand slides down Jason’s chest and Dick almost startles- he has forgotten Miss White entirely, the thought of her driven clean from his mind by finally being able to get his hands on Jason. She’s come up behind the couch to lean forward over Jason’s shoulder, her dress undone and starting to slide down her body, her hair a silver waterfall over one shoulder. She teases the knot of Jason’s tie with one hand and tucks the other under Dick’s chin to bring his face up to hers.

“See what you can have if you’re willing to work for it?” she asks. Dick lets her steal one kiss, then arches up to take control of the next. She tastes like champagne and chocolate and she’s a skilled kisser, practiced enough to almost be forgiven for not being Jason.

Then she gasps and breaks away with a moan, Jason’s face tucked against her neck. He jerks Dick in with fingers hooked around his belt at the same moment, pulling them back together again. He’s trapped between them, held down by Dick’s weight, but still very much in control of the situation, chuckling and murmuring filthy promises against Miss White’s pulse point, untucking Dick's shirt and trailing a hand up his stomach to feel the muscles twitch.

His hand gets to Dick’s sternum and he yanks outward, popping buttons and ripping the shirt open, leaving Dick bare-chested. Showing him off to their guest, who eyes him hungrily, even while Jason smiles at him with proud satisfaction. If it were Dick, he would say something like _I liked that shirt, jackass, now you owe me a hundred bucks_. Mister Malone, however, hasn’t the nerve to say something like that to this gorgeous man, and risk getting himself kicked out. He swallows instead, flicking his gaze away from Jason’s.

The hand still at his belt slips around and finds Dick’s, fingers interlacing at Dick’s thigh, out of Miss White’s view. One solid squeeze- _yes?_ \- and Dick squeezes back- _it’s okay_ \- and Jason smiles for real and leans forward to kiss him again.

Miss White steps back with a satisfied hum, trailing her nails down the nape of Jason’s neck and raising a shiver from his skin. She shimmies her hips, encouraging her dress to lose the battle with gravity for once and for all.

“Put the diamonds back on,” Jason orders, watching her over his shoulder. She smirks at him and kicks her dress off and goes over to the end table-

And gasps, and swears, words even Jason wouldn’t dare to use. Both men stop, startled, and look over to see what’s got her so worked up.

Her necklace, five pounds of diamonds and platinum, no longer on the table. Gone without a trace.

* * *

Miss White’s private security lets them go so late at night it’s actually early in the morning. Babs’ IDs had withstood the test of their scrutiny- they wouldn’t last forever, of course, but Jason and Dick will be miles away by the time they figure it out. They leave separately, and meet up at one of the hotel rooms they’d rented out the other day only after they’re sure they’ve shaken their secret admirers. They won’t go back to the condo again, not during this trip.

Dick took the short way and lost his tail to the skyline, and is showered and changed and almost asleep when Jason finally makes it back. He comes in, already shedding pieces of his suit, and leans over to plant a kiss on Dick’s forehead before heading to take his own shower.

“That was fun,” he says when he comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, toweling his hair. Dick spreads his arms and Jason collapses onto the bed and squirms over to lay on his chest. He’s washed off the scent of Miss White’s perfume, and Dick smiles possessively.

Good. He doesn’t like sharing.

“Ran into Selina,” he says into Jason’s damp hair. Jason makes a noise of acknowledgment, then rolls them over so Dick is lying on top of him.

“I did like that,” he says thoughtfully, fingers playing with the curled tips of Dick’s hair.

“What, the almost-threesome?” Dick asks, feeling like he’d swallowed a lump of ice. He could do that, if it was what Jason wanted. He’s versatile, and he’s willing to compromise for the sake of this relationship, and he can put his own issues on the shelf if it’s really what Jason wants.

Jason tweaks his ear, drawing him out of the spiral. “No,” he says scornfully. “You’re more than enough for me, pretty bird, trust me.” He goes back to playing with Dick’s hair, gaze unfocused and distant.

“The pretending to be strangers?” Role play, Dick is more than willing to consider.

“Maybe,” Jason says, and presses a heavy hand to the back of Dick’s head, pulling him down for a sweet kiss. “Maybe,” he murmurs, breaking up the words with kisses, “I just liked you staring at me all night. Or you getting jealous when I was flirting with other people. Or you forgetting there were even other people in the room.”

“Well, good news,” Dick says breathlessly, smiling so big and goofy it hurts, “because I’m always doing all of that.”

“Good,” Jason growls.

Dick hums in agreement and puts his head down on Jason’s shoulder, rocking his hips so his cock drags against Jason’s thigh. Before he can really get into it, Jason pushes a hand under his, pressing a tube into his fingers, then pushes Dick up so he can roll over onto his belly.

“You sure?” he asks, and Jason looks back at him and nods decisively, shifting up onto his knees and elbows and oh, that is a sight.

They like it rough, hard and fast, biting and bleeding, so Dick’s gentleness as he rocks into Jason now is all the more precious. Dick paints kisses along his spine instead of bruises, fingers light against Jason’s hips instead of locked into place. Jason groans and shudders under him, knees splaying further apart under the gently relentless pushing, until his cock is brushing the bedspread. He can come again, and come untouched, and Dick will make him. One day, Dick will close out the world and push Jason into bed and keep him there, fuck him like this, devastatingly gentle, until there is nothing left of him but a mewling wreck.

Jason’s knee slides a little farther and Dick shifts into the space left and the changing angle has Jason breathing out a deep, juddering breath, which in anyone else would be shout. Dick strokes his sides and leans over his back and pushes back in deep, holds there, and says into Jason’s ear, “I love you.”

Jason bucks his hips and trembles and comes with a whimper that sounds almost like a sob. Dick presses kisses along his spine and whispers words of worship as he rides it out, feeling his own eyes prickle. To think, Jason lives in fear that Dick will abandon this.

“Love you so much,” he says, a promise, a prayer, and rocks his hips again, chasing his own pleasure now.

Jason’s hand finds Dick’s, wrapped into the bedsheets and holding on for dear life, and pries his fingers apart in order to thread his own between them. The tenderness of the gesture, the soft squeeze of reassurance, is all Dick needs, and he cries out as he comes. He holds himself suspended in an arch for a long moment, then collapses onto Jason’s back to shiver with sensation, and Jason drops down onto the bed under him with a groan.

“So perfect,” Dick says, punch drunk on endorphins and loving the way Jason squirms at the words. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”

Jason rearranges them, because Dick is too boneless to do it himself, and drags over the towel he’d been using to clean them up. When he’s done, he props his head up on an elbow, looking down at Dick.

“Me too,” he says, visibly swallowing around the words he can’t quite form the shape of. “All of it. You know that, right?”

Dick smiles, soppy and sweet, and wraps his arms around Jason’s neck to pull him down into a kiss. “I know,” he says, sinking his fingers into Jason’s hair just to feel the vibration as he groaned.

“All right,” Jason says, rolling his head back to relieve the pressure. “You want to stay here all day, I know, I do too. But we have a meeting later.”

“That’s not for hours,” Dick murmurs. “We’ve got time.”

Jason pushes his hand away, gentle, and stares down at him in consideration. Finally he rolls out of bed and goes to dig around in the bag he’d left here earlier.

“Whatcha doing?” Dick asks. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the view, but it would be better with Jason actually close enough to touch. Jason comes back over after a moment and flops back onto the bed, his cell phone in hand.

“Setting an alarm,” he says, already in the middle of doing just that. He sets the phone aside and looks at Dick again. “We have four hours.”

“Oh.” Dick rolls over again, back arched, legs spreading. “Guess we’d better make them count.”

They do.

* * *

They find her that afternoon at a rooftop cafe, sipping delicately at an espresso with a heart in the foam and picking at a honeyed scone. She definitely notices them but only looks up when they reach her table, expression surprised but welcoming. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, Dick thinks.

“Hello, boys,” she says sweetly.

“Miss Kyle,” Dick replies as he pulls out the chair opposite her, matching her sugar with a healthy dosage of his own. Jason pulls his own chair around and sits awkwardly close to Selina, and between the three of them, they’ve blocked off all security camera angles on their table.

Selina leans back a little and folds the corner of the napkin in her lap back. Dick can only see a glitter of reflected sunlight, but Jason is at a good angle, and spends a moment in silent study before he looks up at Dick and nods.

“It’s almost like you don’t trust me,” Selina sighs. “Even after I got you invites to the party last night. I’m hurt.” She picks up her espresso again and flexes her fingers like they’re claws.

“You didn’t really need us, Miss Kyle,” Jason says, all humility and wide-eyed sincerity, and she shoots him a look that would have left a scar, had she her whip on hand.

“I like to keep my hand in,” she says after a moment, steel claws receding into the velvet paw once more. 

“And Bruce asked you to keep an eye on us,” Jason adds. They’d worked it out within minutes of Selina first contacting them with the offer- she really doesn’t need help lifting diamonds from drunk socialites, so Bruce must have caught wind of their plans to return and traded some huge favor for Selina to run interference.

Selina laughs, a proper throaty chuckle instead of the fake tinkling giggle of last night. “If the worst you two are up to is stealing diamonds from a one percenter, I’ll be happy to tell him he’s got nothing to worry about. But actually, I called you because it’s good to have partners sometimes. Throws off the profilers.”

Jason glances at Dick, asking without words if they’re going to believe that, accept that. Dick shrugs- why not?- and Jason unwinds a little. They’re leaving Gotham as soon as they’re done here, leaving Bruce’s sphere of influence. He can do what he wants, it won’t affect them.

“Are we all happy now?” Selina asks, obviously reading the byplay.

Another glance, another shrug- this time just to fuck with her, tiny smiles tucked into the collars of coats- and Jason reaches into his pocket and produces a handheld pair of wire cutters and passes them to Selina. Dick steals her scone and looks around aimlessly as he takes a bite, watching all the sightlines, while Jason leans forward to provide better coverage. After a few moments there’s a snapping noise, and Selina passes a handful back over to Jason.

“Pleasure doing business with you boys,” she says, folding her napkin up again and returning to her espresso.

“Miss Kyle,” Dick says, acknowledgement, a thank you. He takes the scone with him as he stands up and moves away from the table.

“Drop me a line and I might even get you a present,” she calls after them, and Dick freezes and looks back, unsure if he should play dumb, tell her not to tell Bruce, thank her-

Jason knocks his shoulder into Dick’s, and takes Dick’s hand in his, folding them together around something hard and cold and almost as big as Dick’s thumbnail. He keeps walking, pulling Dick along with him, and Dick goes willingly.

“I’m thinking Nassau for the honeymoon,” Jason says thoughtfully as they go, and Dick smirks and swings their joined hands up, the diamond catching shards of sunlight and glinting between their fingers.

“Gotta marry me first,” he says, and Jason looks at him with unbearable fondness.

“Sweetheart, I plan on it.”

* * *

Next February seems them in the Bahamas again, lounging on the beach all day and rolling in the sheets at night, two halves of a very large diamond glittering at them from two silver bands.


End file.
